Lights, Camera, Conversation… “Different strokes, different folks”

The reasons that drive people to dislike a piece of art are sometimes those that you cannot think of in a hundred million years.

I was speaking, recently, to a young filmmaker. The conversation was initiated with single-minded purpose – he wanted to pick my brains about something (I still don’t know how much I was able to help him with what he wanted) – but it gradually expanded to include anything and everything. We spoke about the nature and the purpose of criticism. We spoke about the tendency of people in the film industry to gloat over the failure of their peers. (You haven’t seen Schadenfreude, first hand, until you’ve watched the glee spread like sunshine over the faces of industry folk when a much-lauded director lays an egg; it’s chilling.) And we spoke about the humbling nature of audience response. Each of us had experienced this in different ways – he through the people who have seen his work, and I through those who have read my work. And funnily enough, both of us produced an anecdote about Mani Ratnam to illustrate our experiences.

K’s story revolved around Kannathil Muthamittal, which (in case you don’t know) is about a little girl who’s told by her father that she’s adopted, and that her birth mother is from Sri Lanka. This becomes the impetus for the family to journey to the island, where they are trapped in the midst of war – not just in the general disruptions to normal life caused by a long-running civil war (which makes it difficult for them to make enquiries about people and travel from place to place), but also in the gunfire that erupts around them when they are seated in a park. And K said that a friend of his who worked in advertising didn’t care for the film at all. I thought that maybe the subject was too grim for her. Or maybe, like those who worked in the adoption circles, she felt that the way the child had been apprised of her reality was very cinematic, and this killed the film’s premise for her.

But no. K told me that his friend’s reason for disliking the film was that there was no duet. I said, “Surely you’re not serious.” And he smiled and said he was. The friend’s logic was simply this: How can you have Madhavan and Simran in a movie and not have a romantic song picturised on them? The slight issue of where this duet could have been incorporated into a movie about a couple worrying that they may lose their child did not seem to bother this friend. Seen one way, this is not a completely unreasonable expectation. Such a song probably could have been included in the flashback that details the couple’s courtship, which is better described as a somewhat accidental getting together. This flashback does have a number that plays in the background, Sattena nanaindhadhu nenjam – but it’s not a full-fledged song, and it’s not exactly capital-R romantic. And this absence was enough of a deal-breaker that all the other wonderful things about this movie paled into insignificance. The film, in the friend’s eyes, was a dud.

My story is slightly more bizarre. I was invited, some time ago, to a radio station to talk about the Oscars. Usually, these things are done over the phone, but this time, for whatever reason, they wanted me there. So I went. The person hosting the show was seated opposite me in a sound-proof booth, and as a warm-up to the conversation (the headphones and the volume levels take a bit of getting used to), she began to talk about reviewing. She asked me what I thought of Raavan. I said that I’d found it intriguing, and even if it wasn’t a consistently successful film, there were a lot of fascinating things in it. She asked me why people seemed to dislike the film so much. I said I didn’t know – who can really say why someone doesn’t like something? And then she said she’d hated the film – not because of the story or the performances, but because there was too much moisture.

At first I didn’t understand. What did she mean by “too much moisture”? She explained that the film looked too wet, that it was always raining, that there was… too much moisture. I didn’t what to say. That humbling moment, to me, was a revelation, my Bodhi-tree burst of enlightenment. You can pour blood, sweat and tears into making a movie or writing something or putting up a painting or composing a piece of music, and then someone will come along and dislike it because it’s six in the evening. I wrote, last week, about people who undertake a profession in the public eye – I said that they needed to equip themselves with mental armour. They also need to equip themselves with a mental sieve, to separate the criticism that is informed and well-judged from that which is just a visceral reaction. The former, at least, you can do something with. The latter is nothing more than an affirmation that you can never please all the people all the time.

Lights, Camera, Conversation… is a weekly dose of cud-chewing over what Satyajit Ray called Our Films Their Films. An edited version of this piece can be found here.

I remember this Ravi K Chandran’s interview where he said they actually shot Sattena nanaindhadhu nenjam into a full song in Dhanushkodi and removed it the last min when Sreekar and Mani thought it was disturbing the flow.

Voila , one of my friend told me the same thing abt Kannathil . A group of friends from college went to the movie expecting great romance between Madhavan and Simran, something in the lines of Alaipayuthey and only to be disappointed that they actually left the movie by first half 🙂

“You can pour blood, sweat and tears into making a movie or writing something or putting up a painting or composing a piece of music, and then someone will come along and dislike it because it’s six in the evening.”

Mmm…just because a film has taken a lot of hard work and creativity to make, it does not put the audience under the obligation to like the film. Now whether that “too much moisture” comment was made in flippant vein or genuinely said, cannot be determined. But an old, and somewhat reliable yardstick of a filmmaker’s success has been ‘like-ability’. The number of people liking the film has to be at least equal to or more than number of people who dislike the film. Otherwise, a film becomes a thing of vanity, a showboating hobby, something that one indulges in only if it is high on the esoteric quotient. True, some great films have been panned by critics and audiences alike, but you cannot separate the audience from the film–without the audience, there’d be no film. That is one hard fact of life filmmakers have to live with.

Lol. Mental sieve and mental armour, indeed. Nice read. Reminded me of an old friend who hated 12 Angry Men simply because we don’t find out the identify of the actual killer. He considered sticking with the film a fruitless errand.

Kishor: Amazing. Thanks for sharing. BTW, someone read the piece and said it looked like I was mocking this person. That wasn’t it, really. I was just amazed that such a thing could be a turnoff, that’s all.

what i understand is that it is individual intrest in making film. your choice…what u want to make or convey. when u start a film u would want it be sucessful, but what does sucess means to an individual; it is something different. Did you wanted to earn money, appreciation, cood review, critic award, national award or to be nominated for oscars……sucess has differnt definitions……….what i understand when u make a film…u should ask urself…are u happy? are u satisfied?

Kannathil M.I. worked for me ONLY because it wasn’t about the man and woman; I loved it because it was about the father-daughter, mother-daughter, and just a little bit daughter-biological mother. And yet – despite everything – the ONE vivid moment I still remember from the movie (saw it when it came out) is when Nandita Das’s husband smears the mud of Lanka on her face. That one sensual moment is seared in my memory… that, to me, was what the movie was all about – a handful of mud, land, that causes all that trauma. As for Raavan, haven’t watched the movie, but from the songs and snippets I’ve seen, I think the love and hate between the characters seems so intense *only* because its shot in that kind of a setting. Then again, I love moisture. So, how can I comment, huh? 🙂

BR, check out the AMC series “The Killing” if you can. Its well directed and acted – people hated it for many different reasons. One reason ,of course , is that it always keeps raining. The story is based in Seattle where apparently such weather is normal. I can understand that sentiment – though it did not affect me in that way.

Considering the atmosphere of a movie to liking it or disliking it is silly. When people look for videos on war it will be a macabre experience and you got to accept that. In Kannathil, Mani Ratnam’s focus was about the war that’s happening in Lanka. He said it through a child’s eyes, who actually belongs there. Movies like Alaipayuthey are his comfortable genre, that is romance. His actual passion is to bring out social issues to the spotlight. And I find it amazing when he lives up to his passion. Others who don’t are just missing out good cinema.

aesthetics are essential in films, whether one has a trained eye or a casual one. i don’t like films which are too dark, lighting-wise, or when the camera moves for too much for no seeming reason. to me, it is distracting.

i am guessing most filmmakers (i have written and produced films…) know which choices they make which may put some people off.

i don’t agree that one must try to make a film to please more people than not. if filmmaker has a clear vision of what they are trying to accomplish, go for it! don’t let the idea of a perceived audience taint your vision. doing so dilutes your focus and makes films feel wishy-washy rather than true to themselves. with the exception of a rajni or salman khan film, films which stick with their own cinematic vision and intention anyway tend to grab viewers better than those which jam in songs for the sake of it.

if mani ratnam had put in a duet for simran and madhavan, he may have own over a few people but ultimately he likely would have compromised the integrity of kannathil muthamittal which made it such a wonderful film.

(Putting my over analysis cap on) Consider this, rain is an aspect of nature that is almost animistic, the most man can do is predict it- it comes and goes as it pleases. Same can be said of Raavan, or the anti-hero. So I can understand why it may make people uneasy. Its a sign of nature to the civilized man that you are not in control. Rain\Ravan can strike as they please.

Come to think of it. there is probably a reverse aspect of rain, that is empowering to the individual in a cinematic sense, it being used to project the mood of a character to the surroundings, as in, everything around is getting tainted with the dominant mood – physically and metaphorically. If I remember correctly, I felt the same while watching Batman Begins – the rain falling all over Gotham City and the feeling that, not just the inhabitants, but the city was also criminalized.

Oh my god! A friend recently mentioned that she didn’t like Raavan because “it’s rainy and wet all the time in the movie. It’s irritating, and distracting”. And all I could think of was that it seemed such a strange reason to dislike a movie. But clearly, it looks like there are a lot of people out there who disliked the movie because it has too much moisture/rain/water.

On the other side, a lot of people I know have claimed to like a movie ONLY because the lead actor danced really well in the movie. Which was also very puzzling to me. Though this was always in the context of Telugu movies, so maybe it’s also because beggars can’t be choosers.

i dont know about the movie , but the song i saw was captured in rains . nevertheless just because it was raining or wet you cannot hate a movie . god she dint file a case in the court for the downpour now .

“And then she said she’d hated the film – not because of the story or the performances, but because there was too much moisture.” Someone might as well have said that. But it does not have to be dignified by writing a piece around it.

I mean tomorrow some one could say, ” I did not like the film because the heroine wore mostly blue sarees.’ Sure. He or she would have a right to that opinion. But should we pay any heed?

I am amazed at how common this moisture complaint is! Someone said the same thing about Raavan to me, and I remember feeling perplexed about it. But I had no idea that so many people feel exactly the same!

films are visually aesthetic objects. hence all the above reasons for liking or not liking a film are not only valid, they are central to the medium itself. as filmmakers, it is our job to make conscious choices as such. knowing we cannot please all the people all the time liberates us to make choices suitable to our own visions.

You sound like one of those Rotten Tomatoes crowd. How does the number of people “liking” a movie has to do with the quality of the movie?? Some movies aren’t just meant for everyone. Even if its true that without audience there can never be a film, that is just a capitalistic point of view. Many great movies have gone unnoticed simply because it was not popular. Plus audiences’ taste is a fickle thing, changes on a whim. A good marketing strategy could do wonders to a movie.

“I wrote, last week, about people who undertake a profession in the public eye – I said that they needed to equip themselves with mental armour. They also need to equip themselves with a mental sieve, to separate the criticism that is informed and well-judged from that which is just a visceral reaction. The former, at least, you can do something with. The latter is nothing more than an affirmation that you can never please all the people all the time.”

-A comment that cuts to the chase; you must have laced your keyboard with truth serum …. I hope those who are listening are grateful , for where would cinema today be without critics?

Good sir, I am not aware of the moisture bothering me but I can offer reasons on why Raavan (and for that matter, Guru) is unnervingly out of lieu compared to other Mani Ratnam offerings. I’ll go point wise here-
1) Aishwarya Rai and Abhishek Bachhan. I swear they can’t act. I watched Raavanan the day after I watched Raavan and I found myself raving at Vikram’s performance (not a fan otherwise). Something similar has to be said of Madhavan’s role in Ayudha Eluthu. And Guru of course didn’t unfortunately have a tamil alternative but it might have been perhaps more engaging if some other actor had donned the role (Boman Irani comes to my mind but I fear I’ll be laughed at)

2) Mani Ratnam was never strong at social comment without appearing naive. In all his much feted cinema, we are mostly overlooking the naivete of ideology as we wish to adore and admire the extremely sensitive and touching human interactions he weaves into his script.

3) One really can’t care for Aishwarya Rai in the forest. The willing suspension of disbelief does not occur and I was always convinced she was all right and cuddling up in the night with her more incompetent husband.

4) The Rama Raavanan analogy where Ratnam attempted establishing shades of grey went to the other extreme and suddenly Rama is the villain. It just killed the whole ‘let’s be sensible and re-evaluate our mythology’.

In sum, incompetent acting, my personal lack of empathy for the damsel in distress, inability to express awe over lead role, unwillingness to completely vilify Dev did it for me.

P.S – Not to mention, the sacrosanct Rahman-Ratnam combination seemed very compromised to me.

Very true. Number of people liking the film has absolutely nothing to do with the quality of the film. I haven’t said that anyway.

Just like films, comments/opinions are subject to personal interpretation. As far as the crowd of Rotten Tomatoes is concerned, some of the best critics are found there (and yes, like films, critics too might be unknown, and under-appreciated), so when you say that I sound like “one of those”, I’ll take it as a compliment.

So this is your definition of good cinema. I have a different notion of “good cinema”. “Others who don’t are just missing out good cinema.” – This smacks of arrogance. You define what’s good to yourself, don’t push that on others. “Considering the atmosphere of a movie to liking it or disliking it is silly.” – For whom? Silly to you does not mean the world will look at it the same way, silly!

Rangan – Going through a mid-career crisis? Almost every second post seems to have something defending the critic or obsessing over criticism. Critiquing the criticism is not what a top critic like you is expected to do so consistently. Of course, we can critique you for overdoing your critique on criticism because you have taken up a career which puts you in the public spotlight.

I remember watching Sarkar Raj in a cinema hall in Bahrain. There was a Tamil couple in the row behind me. Halfway into the movie I heard the man complain to his wife that there were no songs/romance and they left after sometime. People have strange reasons for hating a movie.

I’m sorry you didn’t get that. I meant people are missing a good cinema not the one and only good cinema of them all. I never expressed only Mani Ratnam makes good films either. It might have sounded arrogant, but it was pure disappointment.

TheKomentor: That was exactly my take on this ‘ moist’ comment. Even in private conversation, people speak this way at times just for effect. Certainly not worth any serious analysis. AS i said it would be as relevant or insightful or worthy of discussion if someone said I did not like the film because the heroine wore cotton sarees throughout the film. Certainly it is an aesthetic facet of the film. but come on….

Well said on point 4. This is what i felt after watching the movie – (penned it down in posterous)
” I was wondering if someone who never knew/read Ramayana would be able to enjoy the movie. No, they can’t. The anger one feels at the end of the movie is against Lord Rama. My mind was filled with questions like – How does a whole nation pray to Rama who dared to doubt his chaste wife ? Why is he revered as God when he acted as we mere mortals would ? Is Raavanan way better than Rama when it came to treating woman ? Raavanan, the movie, was only an excuse for these questions to crop up in my mind. The movie made me revisit the epic and find answers to the questions. If Mani wanted to kindle angst at Rama through the movie’s climax, he has succeeded.”

Unlikely. We can only hypothesise what went through his mind. However, from what I gather, it was an attempt to re-evaluate the villain (it was titled ‘Villain’ in telugu). But he ended up making yet another hero/villain pair if only with a switch. I mean, I wish he attacked the epic on the good-bad polarisation instead of plainly Raavanan’s moral low ground.

Utkal Mohanty: This was not meant to be serious analysis of a comment, but yes, I did take the comment seriously because it’s a timely (and, frankly, quite humbling) reminder that we’re all slaves of our inner circuitry. I think it’s a very important component of any appreciation of art.

“You can pour blood, sweat and tears into making a movie or writing something or putting up a painting or composing a piece of music, and then someone will come along and dislike it because it’s six in the evening.”… Thank you for that piece of wisdom.